Different moments of madness
by XxSweetGothicChocolatexX
Summary: Basically I'm just going to write short little accounts from people who stayed in the Overlook Hotel, before The Shining characters came to stay.
1. Chapter 1

prologue

There is an empty corridor.  
Soft carpet deep and red like mature wine, and walls covered with lashings of wallpaper with faded intricate patterns peeling off of the sides. One single chandelier dangling with an ere and creak,covered with spider-webs and thick with dust, made by people who once crossed this path and never turned back. If you look into the depth of the corridor you can feel a slight chill that trickles down your back like melted ice, sliding in between each bone and releasing the warmth from your muscles, and if you listen carefully you can hear the delicate sound of scratching, small finger nails peeling at the wallpaper.  
If you attempt to walk down the corridor you can feel the carpet move under you, even though your eyes betray you with its stillness, but your bare feet can feel the carpet slid between your toes almost like thick soft blood creeping under your toe nails, cold and chilling, the strong smell of rust and salt that blood tastes of.  
The chandelier is the only essence of light that makes your fragile eye able to see, as it rocks to and fro without being touched by anything but still oxygen. The smell becomes musty and you feel your throat begin to tense in pain, your air waves beginning to close over.  
You become frozen to the spot.  
The chandelier lights begin to flicker and blink almost as though they feel the same pain you do, and one by one the lights turn off.  
Now the corridor is silent and dead.  
There are no lights and you are alone. Or are you?  
The chandelier drops. Ever bulb smashing and gliding across the air tearing at the wallpaper and scattering at your feet, cutting at your toes. The pain makes you glance down at your feet in horror, only to see blood. Blood dying your toenails a devilish red as the carpet becomes an ocean of salt, you feel it begin to engulf you dragging you under, making you being to sink into the carpet quickly, the blood sliding up to your knee caps, chilling you all over and you cant scream for help, your body just wont let you.  
Now the blood is at your throat and even as you close your mouth it slides up your nose and in through your ears, your whole body feeling its self fill up with the salt of the rich blood, you gasp for air but the blood pours down your throat in gallons making you choke and gag, the blood rising up to your eyeballs and you shut your eyes waiting to die.  
Suddenly you can breath and your back in the corridor, the carpet still betraying you with stillness.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up. There was something ere about the early hours of the morning, the way that the sun was still carefully hidden away from the world, and the moon seemed to also be in hiding as well as when I pulled back the curtains, letting the grey light pour in, creeping into the cracks of my floor boards. I stood out on the balcony and took a deep shallow breath, my throat was sour and my neck ached, my eyes were burning and I could feel the ting of tears that pricked at their corners. I slowly turned my head, glancing over my shoulder, looking down at the bed I had just awoken from, its sheets were now draped all over the floor, the weak bed frame creaked gently as wind blew in from the open window I had revealed behind the curtains. Open window? I had not opened it last night, had I? My memory was hazed and so I disregarded the open window and instead made my way back to the bed, my pillow was full of ink-like smudges, but they were not ink but mascara patches, where I had forgotten to remove my make-up before curling myself up into bed. I was still fully clothed , even all the way down to my shoes, that were still tightly laced up , and seemed more heavy than they had previously the day before. Yes, I remember putting them on before I left, but where did I go? Coming back home was another thing that I remember vaguely, it had been dark and I could hardly drive home in the deep thick fog that seemed to cling to everything the night before like a silver coat, but where had I driven back from? Another creak moaned from the bed, and it broke my sense of pondering as I walked over to the bed and slowly began to make it, aggressively wiping at the pillow with my thumb, but making no progress to make the mascara stains budge. Sighing I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at my aching neck, it was some what damp, and so was my bed sheets, they were the kind of damn feel you get when something is incredibly cold, sort of musty and sticky like on my fingers.  
The nightmare.  
I remembered it now, and as I did I quickly shut my eyes and shook my head. I felt that my stomach was twisting and turning, almost being ringed out tightly like a dish cloth, and my throat was now very scratchy, almost as if someone had been irritating it was constant rubbing. The bed had been full of sweat, which at first I believed had been caused by me wearing my clothes to bed, but the room was freezing cold, the sheets had not been on me, and even though I was fully clothed it was only thin clothes, very light and made of silks and cotton, I seemed to have been wearing my expensive clothes, the ones that were always hid at the back of the wardrobe, never touched or creased, only for those special occasions. Where had I been going that was in need of me dressing up? No the bed sheets had not made me sweat, or the clothes. It was cold sweats.  
The sort of cold sweats you can only get from fear. Raw fear. The type that made you doubt what was around every corner, the type that made you fear even your own small footsteps, that made not even music drown out its mocking laughs. I had more flashes yet again of my nightmare. The nightmare. I remembered all of it, it was all flooding back, but not like gushes of water, no more like thick and sticky jell that stuck to every part of my mind, almost fogging it, like the sky had been full of relentless fog last night. Last night. The nightmare was again prominent in my mind, and the creak of the bed made my jump, quickly making me stand up and back away from my bed, walking slowly back to the balcony, my heavy shoes seemed to echo all over the room bouncing off the walls. I took a deep breath and reached into my pockets, looking for some evidence of what I may have done last night. There was something sharp, jagged and cold in my pocket, something knife like in its shape, but seemed very small, slowly I pulled it out , grasping it tightly and slowly looking down into my hand to see what it truly was. Keys. That was it. Just my keys, the front door the back door, many key rings that I had been given from family and friends, I seemed to have so many key rings my actually keys seemed to get lost within their masses. I was relieved to have something so common with me, when everything else seemed to be so abnormal, it brought normality. It calmed me down somewhat.  
I glanced down at the keys, then up at the door and swallowed, my throat burning as I quickly walked towards the door and slotted the key into the door. It opened and revealed the corridor.


End file.
